sovereign."

That night, however, he suddenly remembered the prediction of Rashi.

"For three days I have been King of Jerusalem," he muttered. "The
rabbi of the Jews spoke truth."

He could not help wondering whether the rest of the prophecy would be
fulfilled, and he became moody. He was joyful when he gained a
victory, but there came also disasters, and he was plunged into
despondency. The reverses affected the buoyancy of his troops, disease
decimated their ranks, and desertions further depleted their numbers.
Slowly but surely his mighty army dwindled away to a mere handful of
dissatisfied men and decrepit horses.

It was a ragged and wretched procession that he led back across
Europe, and daily his retinue grew smaller. Men and horses dropped
from sheer fatigue helpless by the wayside, and were left there to
die, with the hungry vultures perched on trees, patiently waiting for
the last flicker of life to depart before they set to work to pick the
bones of all flesh.

Godfrey de Bouillon had gained his victory, but at what cost?
Thousands of men, women and children had been murdered, thousands of
his soldiers had fallen in battle, and now hundreds of others had
dropped out of the ranks to end their last hours on the ghastly road
that led from Jerusalem back to western Europe. Do you wonder that
Godfrey was unhappy, and that he thought every moment of the words of
Rashi?

At length he reached the city of Worms where Rashi dwelt. With him
were four men, mounted on horses.

"It is well," he said, with as much cheerfulness as he could muster,
as he surveyed the remnants of his once proud army. "The rabbi has
failed."

Godfrey bade his men fall into line behind him and he proudly rode
through the gate of the city. As he did so, he heard a cry of alarm.
He turned hastily and saw a huge stone falling from the city's gate.
It dropped on the soldier riding just behind him, killing both man and
horse.

"You have spoken truth; would that I had taken heed of your words," he
said to the rabbi. "I am a broken man. You will assuredly achieve
great fame in Israel."

And so it has come to pass. Should you, by chance, ever visit the city
of Brussels, the capital of Belgium, fail not to look upon the statue
of Godfrey de Bouillon, with his sword proudly raised. It stands in
the Place Royale but a few minutes' walk from the synagogue. Should
you ever be in the ancient city of Worms that stands on the Rhine, do
as other